Her Reluctant Viscount (Rakes and Rogues)

by Aliyah Burke

  Maybe to some, but he had not thought it would have to him. Colin laughed and leaned back in his chair.

  “You have that look like you never expected to realize what it was you felt for her.”

  “I am not sure what to think.”

  “At least now my wife will not be coming after you after she gives birth.”

  Colin crossed his ankles. He bore an easy smile on his lips and Trystan become conscious just how much his friend had changed. Sometimes it was much easier to see love on someone else than within one’s own person.

  “I asked her to marry me.”

  Colin lifted a dark brow before shifting on the seat. “Did I miss the banns being posted?”

  “No. Jo refused me. Again.”

  “Refused you again.”

  “Yes, we know you recall I have not been successful in getting a yes from her. She was very polite about it just said she would not marry someone who was a good match.” The look on his best friend’s face had him scowling. “This is not humorous, Colin.”

  “Oh no, of course not.” He cleared his throat. “Not even a little bit.” There was no disguising the mirth in his gaze, however.

  Right, like he believed that. The next words out of his mouth only set Colin to laughing long and hard.

  They spent the afternoon catching up and he rested in the library after his friend left. He still felt a bit weak but he did not intend to let it keep him abed forever. Pushing to his feet, he left the room only to find Arabella looking for him.

  She slid a hand up his arm and tried to move close, he backed away. “I think you should leave.”

  Her painted lips pursed to a pout. One he had no wish to see.

  “Trystan,” she cooed. “Let me continue to take care of you.”

  “I do believe one has to actually do the initial caring for to claim ‘continuing’ to care for someone.” He arched a brow. “Since you only arrived yesterday, you cannot continue to do so for me.”

  “I know, but I was so worried the moment I heard about it. I could only gain entry into your house yesterday otherwise I would have been right by your side.”

  “What is it you want, Arabella?”

  “You, Trystan. We were wonderful together.” She batted her lids at him. “I know you said it was over but reconsider. Let me make you happy.”

  Lord, he detested begging. Well, unless it was a breathless kind of beg coming from Jo, asking him to enter her. Or go harder, deeper, even faster. Yes, that kind of begging he had no problem with. His cock stiffened at the memory of Jo’s tight slit around him. Her face flushed with passion as she made love to him.

  He shook off the thought and stared at the woman before him. “I do not wish to continue. What I said that day, I meant. We are finished.” Anger sparked in her gaze and he shook his head. “Do not make a scene, Arabella. Let it end.” He walked off telling the butler, “Her Grace was just leaving.”

  “Very good, my lord.”

  He had them make him some dinner then sent for his carriage. Sitting in it, he rapped his cane against the roof and they set off to the destination he had given. He walked up to the front door and knocked.

  “Good evening, my lord.”

  “Is Miss Adrys in?” Trystan did not have to hand a card, the members of this household knew him well enough.

  “No, my lord.” The man did not hesitate.

  “I do not suppose you know where she went?”

  “Miss Adrys does not see fit to tell me.”

  Of course she did not. “Good night.”

  “Good night, my lord.” The door closed gently in his face.

  Disappointed he made his way back to his carriage. His next stop was to Royce’s.

  “Glad you made it through, my lord.” Royce offered him a seat.

  “How is Clara?”

  “She is fine. A bit shaken but recovering nicely.”

  “I am so glad and I am so sorry she got injured in the first place.”

  “War comes home sometimes.” He shifted his weight. “Did you hear The Alchemist killed herself in the gaol?”

  “How?”

  “Hanged.”

  He should feel elated yet he did not. “Are they sure she is dead?”

  “That is what Jo said. They are.”

  “Jo knows?”

  “It happened before you…recovered. I know Jack wants to see you.”

  Not a visit Trystan wanted to take. “I know. I am on my way to see him.”

  Royce gestured with his chin to his injury. “You sure you should be out so much?”

  “I have been abed nearly a fortnight. I think it is time to move around.”

  “Stubborn.”

  “Always.” He rose. “Thank you, Royce. For everything. If ever I can repay you.”

  “Just come to the wedding and we will be fine.”

  He grinned. “I cannot wait.”

  The men shook hands and Trystan took his leave. He waited a few moments in the carriage before knocking. Exhaustion had set in. He did not like being this weak. His fingers flexed around the head of his cane and he took several deep breaths before giving the command to go.

  Jack must have known somehow he was coming for the man waited outside the door. No words were spoken as Tryst slowly walked to meet him. Jack stared at him before gesturing him inside. Leading him, Trystan did not move down the hall like he normally would, instead he stepped to the side, pivoted, and waited.

  “How are you?”

  “Seen better days.”

  “Berry did a good job.”

  He was not the only one, but Jo was not who Trystan should be focused on right now. “We need to talk I am assuming.”

  “We certainly do.”

  When Jack walked down the hall, Tryst followed, returning the nods he received by the man’s staff. They did not go to his office, which shocked him. Instead, Jack turned into a different room. One which was more welcoming, a large fire burned in the hearth, offering more light than the lamps alone offered.

  He sat after scouting the room. Jack held up a decanter in offering. Trystan shook his head. “What did you need to see me about, Jack?”

  Chapter Eighteen

  I spent a lovely afternoon with the Dowager Duchess of Haversham. She is, despite her reputation as an evil and spiteful woman, a lot of fun. I look forward to taking tea with her at a future date.

  ~From the private journal of Josephine Adrys

  “More flowers arrived for you, miss.” The maid made her announcement as she brought them in the room. She could hardly see over the top of the arrangement.

  Jo met Clara’s gaze—her amused gaze—before scanning the floral display one more time. They were beautiful, no argument.

  “Thank you, Sara. Set them wherever and go bring a footman to help you move them. Perhaps in the parlor would be a good place for them.”

  “Yes, miss.” She bobbed and hurried on her way.

  “Not even going to see who they are from?” Clara put down her book and gave her an inquisitive look

  “I know.”

  “So do I but there is no reason not to go look at the message.”

  Even as Jo spoke the words, her heart beat a few extras and she swallowed. Time had passed since the whole incident and her life had settled back down. Her parents were home, pleased she was fine, and happy to have Clara staying with them up until her wedding. She had barely seen Trystan and when she did, she ensured to keep the meeting short and succinct.

  “Go read it. I have no desire to.” That statement was a lie. A complete lie. She wanted to know what he said to her.

  “He says he will be stopping by tomorrow to take you around Hyde Park.”

  “No asking first? Just a statement as if he can command me like the men he used to serve with?” Jo seethed.

  “I would suppose he is trying to catch you. Every time he puts down a time, you are out. Even when we are in.” Clara made her point in a rational and calm manner.

  “We have no
thing to say to one another, Clara.”

  “I merely gave a suggestion as to why he did not mention a time.”

  She blew out a breath, contrite. It was not Clara’s fault and Jo knew she should not take her frustration out on her friend. This was on her. Since the exposure and ruination of several members of peerage, including the Earl of Stanton, she had done her best to be a paragon. No outbursts, no muttered comments when someone annoyed her—which happened quite often—and absolutely nothing to embarrass her family.

  “Forgive me.”

  Clara moved to her side and squeezed an arm. “Nothing to forgive, I know this is hard on you.”

  The door opened and Jo looked up to see her parents walk in the room. She gave them a smile, truly grateful they were fine. Whomever Trystan had sent to follow and protect them had done wonderfully.

  “Clara, my dear,” her father began. “Can you give us a moment with Jo?”

  “Of course.” Another brief squeeze on her arm and Clara left with a curtsey.

  When it was just the three of them her parents sat and gave her a look she had not seen for a long time. She folded her hands in her lap and waited for them to say whatever they needed to. Their expressions told her even that was unexpected. Before she had always been so impatient and would ask what they wanted.

  “How are you feeling?” Her mother fixed her skirts before watching her with cool brown eyes.

  “I am fine. Looking forward to seeing Najja’s baby when he or she arrives.”

  Her father frowned. “You are not yourself, Jo.”

  Jo blinked a few times. “In what sense?”

  Her parents shared a look. “You are different and I know…we know a lot of that is from your harrowing experience.”

  Leaning forward she took her father’s hand. “Papa, that was not your fault. Please do not blame yourself. I survived.”

  “It is my job to worry. I was not here.”

  “You were safe. Had you been home, you two would have been in danger as well. Or worse.”

  “You are not the daughter we remember. There are no outbursts, even in the house. You are quiet, reserved, and not at all the child we brought home from Africa.”

  She shrugged. “I am no longer a child and acting like that only embarrassed the family. Mama said so enough times. I finally figured it out.” She released her father’s hand. “Is that all, Papa? Clara and I are going shopping.”

  From the corner of her eye, she watched her mother’s face pale. It may not have been nice to say but it was true. Even before they returned to England, all she heard was how she could not do this or that because proper ladies did not behave as such.

  He stood and helped her to her feet. Hugging her, he whispered in her ear, “I know what your mother says, but I for one like the girl you used to be.”

  She dearly loved her parents but she doted on her father. Returning his hug, she stepped back and gave them both smiles before leaving. Clara sat on the stairs waiting for her. Their cloaks beside her. Jo moved to her side.

  “Well?”

  They donned their cloaks and pulled on gloves. Tying on her hat, she gave Clara a look she knew she would understand. They would speak of this later when it was just the two of them.

  The carriage arrived for them shortly and they were off to the West End. The ride was lighthearted talk, their maids with them. Once they made it to the shops however and the young women were a bit farther back Clara reiterated her question.

  “What happened?”

  “Apparently I am different now. I am no longer the daughter they brought with them from Africa.” Jo blew out a breath. “Unbelievable. My mother had never been happy with my actions before, constantly telling me how I was embarrassing the family. Now I am doing what she has wanted for so long and I am not myself.”

  Holding up a bolt of ruby port chiffon, Clara stared at her. “This would look beautiful on you. Your mother loves you.”

  There was wistfulness in Clara’s tone. Jo moved to touch the fabric, it was gorgeous. “I know, I merely wish she could be proud of me.”

  “She is. Your mother is…your mother.”

  And that summed it up right there. Anyone who knew her mother, knew that. The friends shopped more, and got some dresses ordered. To end their day out, they went to the park and walked around.

  “Miss Adrys?”

  She paused at the feminine voice, glancing about for the speaker. When she caught sight of who it was, she bit back a groan of frustration. Pasting a smile on her face, she dipped a curtsey, Clara following suit.

  “Good afternoon, Your Grace.”

  “Lovely to see you again. How are you?” Arabella asked.

  Can I stab her? It would make me feel better. Jo answered and made introductions.

  “Have you seen Lord Wilkes lately?”

  “No, Your Grace. Not for a while.”

  “I saw him.” Her gaze sparked. “Last night and this morning.”

  With a deep breath, Jo nodded. “How wonderful. If you will excuse us, Your Grace, we have some other things to attend.”

  “Yes, I understand. I am going to shop, there is a party coming up, and I believe I need a new dress for the occasion.”

  “Have a wonderful day, Your Grace.” Another curtsey and she and Clara walked off.

  “That woman and Trystan?” Clara muttered as they returned to the waiting carriage.

  “His mistress.”

  Clara grabbed her hand. “How do you know that?”

  “He introduced us.” Her eyes grew large and Jo laughed at her expression. “When we were…you know running. We actually stayed at her place.”

  The humor left and the mood sobered. “I am so sorry, Jo. I cannot imagine what it was like for you.”

  “Do not give it another thought. It is over and done. We need to focus on your wedding day.”

  Clara’s face reddened. “And night.”

  “Yes. I wish you all the happiness in the world with Royce.”

  They stepped into the conveyance and again changed the topic to something not revolving around Trystan or even Royce. They spoke of the party they would be attending that night.

  Trystan groaned and finished off his drink as he gazed out of the window at White’s. He really had no desire to be here but he had to do something. Stopping by Jo’s that morning had presented him with yet another “Miss Adrys is not in.” He was quite tired of hearing that phrase.

  He had been unable to get any decent time with her since he woke. Sure, he saw her on occasion, normally in Clara’s company, but it was brief and never long enough.

  It never would be until she was his wife. When she was his every night to hold and kiss. The woman he wanted to wake up next to each morning. Yet, she seemed extremely reluctant to have anything to do with him.

  Shoving back from the table, he left the establishment and walked up the street. It was a while later when he found her. Out, as her butler had stated. For a moment, he just stood there by a lamppost and stared at her.

  She wore a green gown and had her hair pinned up and held in place by her hat. His fingers itched to yank the hat off and allow all those silken strands of mixed hues to pour over his skin. Casting his gaze around her, he noticed the maids walking behind them.

  He frowned. This was not her. Sure, the outside package was damn near perfect but to his eyes, something was still missing. He had hoped she would have regained her spark after it had all ended. But there was not one. What he saw before him was a woman who presented a perfect image for a member of the ton.

  He growled low in his throat and headed toward her. Twirling his cane, he appeared before them and tipped his hat.

  “Good afternoon, ladies.”

  Both curtsied. “Good afternoon, Lord Wilkes.”

  He stared into Jo’s eyes. Nothing. No heat, no desire. No emotion what so ever. He hated that.

  “I do hope you got my flowers.”

  “They were beautiful, thank you, my lord.”


  Jo still had no inflection in her tone.

  Hell he wanted to haul her close and kiss her. Devour her until she sagged against him, eyes darkened with pleasure and want, breathing fast and shallow. He swallowed and reminded himself they were on the street. Not behind closed doors. Did it change how he felt? Not at all.